Margot - Episode 4

Sweat on my forehead and an uneasy, straining feeling in my back. It’s four o’clock in the afternoon when I succumb from slumber. Being this time of the year, it’s already getting darker and gloomy. I listen with fierce concentration, but nothing can be heard from the neighbouring apartment.

Entering the kitchen I notice the groceries I’ve left behind on the floor. Quickly I put them away, grab my gym bag and leave the apartment. On the corridor I peak outside to see Gregory’s car still missing.

The gym is just a short walk from my building and still not being a sports type I finish my workout in half an hour and head home. I hate public showers even more than sports, so I always shower at home. The only thing positive to say about sports is the faint, horny urge afterwards. This could make me addicted to workouts, but until now my frequency hasn’t been more than two halfhearted times a week.

There’s something to be told about my apartment building. It’s always tropical. I’ve talked about it with neighbours, landlord and janitor. To no avail, so no matter what time of the day or year there’s no need for jumpers, cardigans or blankets inside. In most cases no clothing is needed. This explains why I walk around in minimal covering and as far as I know my fellow renters do the same.

After a quick shower I prepare myself a chilli. A large amount so I have a ration for tomorrow. Just before sitting down with my plate I hear a knock on the door. My throat feels dry. As anticipated, it’s Gregory. “Hey, you’re having diner? Can I join?”. No worries are needed, he’s the same as ever. Before I can answer anything, he makes his way to my kitchen and helps himself.

So there we are. Eating and sipping some Coke while some sort of cooking show is shown. Luckily Gregory is kind enough to break the tension with some of his typical jokes. Like me he’s not wearing much. He places his empty plate on the floor and turns towards me. Clumsily placing his hand on my left wrist. “Greg, before you do or say anything you must know I’m no relationship material.”

I feel the reaction from his hand, but it stays on my wrist. It may be the herbs or temperature in the room, but also the tension. I sense the sweat between our skins. “Don’t rush it, Marg. I just want to discuss last night. Can I say we’re friends?” I nod and wait. I see insecurity on his face. Good, same as I. His hand leaves my wrist and he leans back against his seat.

“Are you attracted to men in general?” I nod yes. “But I’m not attracted to their touch.”

His face turns blank. “How so?”

“It’s complicated, maybe one day I share a significant piece of my past with you.”

Falling silent for a few seconds he continues. “You did look at me, last night. Why?”

“I did get aroused, but I was very lucky you made no advancement to me. I enjoyed what we did, but I did not want you to touch me.”

I’ve made men happy with my hands in the past. Even with my mouth, but this wasn’t such an occasion. Not yet, at least. “Please, help yourself. You seem to be heated again.”

With an apparent confusion he looks down to spot the obvious bulge in his boxers. Still, cautious he looks at me. “Are you alright with this?”

I smile and punch him on the shoulder. “Get on, soldier.”

His penis emerges and soon he’s happily stroking. I stop him in the act. “But, please do not leave after the act. Stay and drink some vodka with me. He nods and continues. My mood has been raised also, so I start to stroke my nub. Keeping my panties on.

Gregory seems to take his time and I spot his gaze on my lower body from the corner of my eye. He takes off his boxers and massages his scrotum. I feel my climax approaching so I hand him a few tissues from the box besides my couch. He gets the hint and quickly reaches his point of pleasure. Quietly I experience something similar.

We just sit their with a bottle between us and watch a boring sci-fi flick. Tired, satisfied and drunk I fall asleep.